


Lost

by bitchin_beskar



Series: I See Starlight In Your Eyes [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Baby Yoda is cute, F/M, Post Season 1, Romance, Sci-Fi, Slow Burn, Star Wars - Freeform, because FUCK THAT, eventually, except kuiil is still alive, like super slow, mando isn't even in chapter 1, oc is helpless against his charms, whoopsie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23958778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchin_beskar/pseuds/bitchin_beskar
Summary: The Child has been kidnapped, and sold into a slave trade on Lyerra. Found by Cerliah, a slave herself, she takes care of him until an attack by bounty hunters searching for the Child provides an opportunity for escape. Fleeing to Markon-Vel, a mostly agricultural world, Cerliah and the Child try to build a life for themselves, staying under the radar, until the Mandalorian comes for his charge.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: I See Starlight In Your Eyes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727272
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	1. Foundling

Walking through the streets of the marketplace, in the middle of the throngs of people, two women stood out amongst the rest. The first, a tall, regal-looking woman, with deep auburn hair pulled up into an elaborate coiffure, her gown spotless and shimmering in the sunlight, was the perfect image of a Grand-Moff’s wife. She strode through the streets, pausing here and there at stalls, peering at the wares offered, before moving on to the next stall. 

The other woman drew just as much attention, for much the opposite reasons. She followed after the regal woman, but by comparison, her dress was made of cheap cotton, although just as spotless. Her head was held just as high, however her eyes were cast downwards, carefully avoiding any and all eye contact. Her brunette hair was pulled away from her face in a simple plait, and she carried a simple woven basket in front of her, which she placed her mistress’s purchases into. 

As they reached the marketplace center, the regal woman slowed, eyeing the display set up in the central square of the market. There, on a small stage, was the main reason she’d come to the marketplace today. For today was the first of the month, which meant there was a new assortment of slaves for purchasing. On Lyerra, slavery was not just allowed, but encouraged. The royal family had built their wealth on the backs of slaves, and it was considered a sign of status to own a slave, and the more you owned, the more important you were considered to be. 

As the wife to a Grand-Moff, it was of no surprise to anyone that she had come to the marketplace on this particular day. With twenty slaves already in their employ, the Grand-Moff and his wife were the only ones in the entire city to have just as many slaves as the royals. It was an open secret that the Grand-Moff kept a close eye on how many slaves were employed in the royal household, and whenever that number increased, he sent his wife to the market to purchase more. So, here she was, surveying the potential purchases.

Standing next to her mistress, the young woman was a picture of the perfect slave, perfect posture, but not so much that she drew attention, head slightly bowed, hands folded neatly over the basket she carried. But as she stood there, she slowly observed the slaves on display. There were the usual ones who stared angrily out at the crowd, defiant and obstinate. Then there were the few who were meek, beaten down, staring at their shackled limbs, those who had clearly become used to this life. To her sorrow, there were also three children, the metal shackles too big on their too-thin wrists.

Confusingly, there was also a basket on a pedestal on the stage as well. She couldn’t see into the basket, and before she could think about it too much, her mistress grabbed her attention. 

“Well Cerliah, what do you think?”

Cerliah looked over the slaves. She hated this part of the trip, she always had. “Well, M’Lady, there’s a fine selection today,” she said, tasting bile in the back of her throat as she forced the words out. Luckily, her mistress didn’t notice the pain in her voice.

“Mmm, yes indeed.” Ettela Tarrel, her mistress, stepped forward, critically eyeing each slave. “Cerliah, come here.” Ettela had stopped in front of the basket on the pedestal.

Cerliah jerked, quickly moving to stand next to, but just behind her mistress. “Yes, M’Lady?” She asked, praying that her mistress wouldn’t ask for her opinion on which slave to choose, as she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pick. 

“I discussed with my husband the possibility of allowing you to pick a child, since you were denied yours.” Cerliah’s eyes widened, and it was only her years of servitude that prevented her from jerking her head up to meet her mistress's eyes. 

She felt tears well in her eyes, and she forced herself to take deep breaths. “M-M’lady?” Cerliah could feel her mistress’s eyes on her, and she struggled to keep her voice level.  
“He has agreed to allow you a child of my choice, for the two years you would have been allowed to keep your own.” Ettela gestured to the basket. “While this child may not be your species, I trust you will accept this… gift?” 

Her mistress paused, and Cerliah knew what was being left unsaid. This was not a request, not something she could deny. Her only choice was to graciously agree, as for a slave to disagree with their master, and publicly no less, could see them executed. 

“Of course M’Lady, I would be honored to accept,” Cerliah told her mistress, watching as she turned, and after ordering the merchant to charge her husband’s household, gesturing for Cerliah to step forward. 

Slowly, she stepped forward, climbing up the stage, and peering into the basket. Staring up at her was the cutest life-form she’d ever seen. The child was small, about the size of a human infant, but that was where the similarities ended. Large black eyes peered up at her, perched above a comically small mouth and nose. The child’s skin was green and wrinkly, with fuzzy hair on top of its wrinkled little head. But the oddest thing about the child were its large, green, petal shaped ears. Letting the basket she carried hang in the crook of her arm, Cerliah reached down, picking the child up out of the basket, cradling it in her arms. 

She faintly noticed the merchant giving Ettela the trigger for the child’s transmitter, although she was far more focused on how the child had snuggled into her arms, burying its head in her neck and clutching onto the neckline of her dress with one small, three-fingered hand. She felt tears come to her eyes again, although for a much different reason than her mistress assumed. 

“I’m pleased it suits you.” Ettela eyed her servant with a critical eye. “Come now, there are still chores left to do for today.” 

Cerliah followed her mistress out of the square, weaving through the crowd as they made their way back to the mansion. She could hear the child sniffling against her neck, and she felt warm tears against her skin. Quietly, she began to hum a lullaby from her childhood, desperate to calm the child. Her mistress had been kind so far, but that was liable to change depending on her mood, and a crying baby was a surefire way to change that mood instantly.

Finally, they came to the base of the grand mansion that housed the Grand-Moff and his wife. Opulent and extravagant, the mansion was a thing to behold. A white marble staircase led to the front of the house, with grand pillars stretching all the way to the roof. Windows adorned the front of the mansion, allowing in light to dazzle off of the glass chandeliers and the marble floor. As they entered, Ettela dismissed Cerliah for a few hours, allowing her to make her way to the small servants bedroom that she called her own, branching off of the master bedroom. 

As the personal handmaid to the Lady of the Mansion, Cerliah had a slightly bigger room than most. Her bedroom door was hidden, a discreet cut out in the wall that swung inward from the master closet. She had to be close, so as to better serve her mistress' needs. She quickly made her way into her room, shutting the door behind her, and dropping onto her bed, careful to not jostle the child, which had fallen asleep in her arms. 

As she sat, she stared down as the sleeping baby, her trembling hand tracing its features. She hated that such a small, innocent baby had already been sold into slavery. No doubt he, or she, had parents out looking for them. Cerliah felt tears run down her cheeks. Even though this baby was not hers, she would care for them as though they were her flesh and blood. Anything she could do to protect this innocence for as long as possible. 

She let the baby rest on her bed, as she moved about her room, constructing a rudimentary cradle from her meager possessions. Once the cradle had been constructed, she placed the child inside, before quickly moving to her mistress’s room to put away the packages purchased that day. While she’d been given a few hours before her dinner, Cerliah was going to make sure that nothing she did angered her mistress, lest she take the child from her. 

Time passed rather quickly, and before she realized, it was time for dinner for the household staff. She made her way to the far end of her bedroom, where another hidden door led to a staircase, which spiraled down into the basement of the mansion, where the kitchens lay. As Cerliah entered, she was bombarded with questions from her fellow servants. 

“Cerliah, is it true, is it?” Aterra, a young Twi'lek serving girl, practically assaulted her as she walked into the kitchens. “Did the master really allow you to have a baby?” The word baby was said in a whisper, as though speaking of the child too loudly would cause it to disappear. 

All Cerliah could do was nod. “Yes, M’Lady picked out the child at the marketplace today. I am to be allowed to keep it for two years, the same amount of time my child would have been with me.” 

The young girls who had all crowded around Aterra oohed and awed, while the older servants just looked on fondly. But Aterra had a funny look on her face. “Why do you call the baby it? Don’t you know if its a boy or a girl?” 

The Matron, a no-nonsense older woman who was in charge of the kitchens, whacked Aterra on the back of the hand with a wooden serving spoon. “Girl, be quiet! You know better than to disrespect those older than you! Have you learned nothing?” Despite her stern tone, Matron allowed a small grin to grace her lips, eyes shining with amusement as Aterra tried to hide behind one of the other girls.

Cerliah laughed softly. “The baby isn’t a species I’ve ever seen before, Aterra. I’m not sure if its a boy or a girl, although they are very cute.” Immediately, all eyes were back on Cerliah, as she sat upon a small stool, and she began to answer as many questions as she could. 

Before long, the servant’s allotted time for dinner was over, and the kitchens emptied quickly as the staff dispersed to attend to their nightly duties. Cerliah stood from her stool, but before she could make her way to the door leading back to her chambers, a hand on her arm stopped her. Turning, she saw the Matron, a worried look in her eyes.   
“Are you okay Cerliah?” As she opened her mouth to voice her confusion, the Matron pierced her with a small glare. “Truly, child, are you alright? I know how much you hurt when you lost…” Matron trailed off, her hand moving from Cerliah’s arm to her belly, unable to speak it out loud. 

Cerliah’s eyes widened, and it was all she could do to not break down in the Matron’s arms. While it hadn’t been a secret that she’d been pregnant, the Matron was the only one Cerliah had ever talked with about her baby, the only one she’d ever shared her hopes and fears with.

“I wonder if the mistress truly meant for this child to be a boon, or if perhaps she had another reason for allowing you this child. I don’t want to see you broken, Cerliah, and I’m worried this child will have the power to do that.” 

The Matron drew Cerliah into her arms in a rare show of affection. Other than Cerliah, the Matron had been in the employ of the Grand-Moff the longest. She was the one who trained every new servant, and as such, they all looked up to her as the pseudo-mother of the household. 

Cerliah gripped the back of the Matron’s dress, burying her face in the Matron’s neck. She allowed herself a few moments of weakness before she straightened up. “Truthfully, I do not know what I will do when It comes time for the baby to leave,” she whispered, meeting the Matron’s gaze. “But for now, I will care for it as my own, and I will cherish the time I have.”

The Matron laid a hand against her cheek, fingers brushing away the few remaining tears. They stood in silence for a moment longer, before Cerliah broke away, making her way to the stairwell, and ascending the many floors back to her chambers. 

Cerliah stepped into her room, and not a minute too soon, as the small bell that hung in her chambers began to ring, signaling that her mistress was summoning her. Pausing briefly at the cradle to check on the baby, she moved through the door, and into her mistress’s room. 

She stood quietly by the door to the fresher, head bowed as she waited for orders. After a few moments, her mistress called her over to the vanity, so that she could braid her hair before bed. As she stood behind her Ettela, her fingers moving through the auburn strands, forming them into one of the elaborate Nubian braids favored by her mistress, the bedroom door opened, and the master of the Mansion came into the room. 

Cerliah stiffened imperceptibly. While she was technically the slave to the wife of the Grand-Moff, she was still considered to be in his employ, and as such, he had final say over her fate. She was lucky, as she rarely had dealings with the man, but she still felt fear whenever she had to be in his presence. 

Grand-Moff Tarrel was a particularly intimidating man. He stood well over six feet tall, and while he spent most of his time in official dress, it was clear that he was just as comfortable and deadly with weapons as he was with words and orders. His greying hair did nothing to detract from his fearsome appearance, and the near permanent scowl on his face often sent slaves scurrying to stay out of his way. 

He stalked into the room, making his way to the other side of the room, where he began to disrobe. Cerliah pointedly looked at her mistress’s hair, finishing off the braid, and tying it neatly with some spare ribbon. She stepped back, standing next to the vanity, waiting until her dismissal. 

She nearly jumped in shock when, instead of dismissing her, the Grand-Moff called out for her. “Cerliah, I understand that my wife allowed you to pick your child today at the market?” She nodded, her breathing shaky. Was the Matron right? Was she to only have a few hours with the child before it was taken from her? Had she done something to anger them? Why- 

Her panicky thoughts were cut off by the Grand-Moff’s next words. “I understand that the child isn’t human? Would you permit me to see the babe?” Knowing she had no choice, no matter how the order was phrased, she nodded once again, making her way quickly to her adjoining room.

She peered into the cradle. The baby was laying on its back, its huge eyes closed as soft snores resonated from its tiny mouth. She hated to wake the child, but knew she couldn’t disobey the master’s orders. She lifted the child into her arms, rubbing her fingers against the soft skin of one of its ears, watching as the child blinked sleepily up at her. 

Cradling the child in her arms, she left her small quarters and returned to the master chambers. Entering, she moved to stand in front of the Grand-Moff, reluctantly handing over the child as he held his arms out. 

She watched as the Grand-Moff handled him with remarkable care, looking the child over for a tense minute, looking at the child while it stared back unblinkingly, before offering the child back to her. 

Gratefully, she took the baby back into her arms, bringing him to rest against her chest. She continued to keep her eyes lowered, as she curtseyed, before moving back to stand against the wall. The Grand-Moff chuckled, and she got the feeling she was being laughed at, although she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

“Well, it's certainly an odd looking thing, I’ll grant you that.” He continued chuckling to himself. “You’re dismissed for the night, Cerliah.”

Feeling as though a weight had been lifted off her chest, Cerliah curtseyed, before quickly moving to her own chambers, dimming the lights along the way. Once she entered her room she shut the door, moving to sit on the bed with the baby still clutched in her arms. The child grinned up at her, little teeth peeking out of its tiny mouth. 

“I bet you’re hungry, huh?” Cerliah muttered, setting the child down as she moved over to the small tray that had been set on the table next to the staircase. “Looks like Matron wanted to make sure you got dinner.”

Grabbing the small tray, which had a small bowl of mashed fruit and some bread, Cerliah made her way back to the bed, where the small child had sat up eagerly, reaching out with tiny hands for the tray of food. Smiling softly, she sat on the bed, tearing up the bread into bite-sized pieces, and feeding the child one at a time. 

While the baby munched on its dinner, Cerliah’s thoughts drifted. While there were certainly worse households to be a part of, the life of a slave was no life for a child, especially one as little as the baby in front of her. But there was no way out, at least as far as Cerliah knew. As the servant to the Mistress of the Mansion, she knew certain things that other servants didn’t. Such as where all the slave triggers were kept, along with the secret stash of credits in case of an emergency. 

But the only reason she knew any of this was because her Mistress was confident that Cerliah had been broken. And she wasn’t wrong. There was no life for her outside of the Mansion, no family to return home to, the Imperials had made sure of that. She’d been a slave since she was a child, she knew nothing else. But now…

Now she had this sweet, innocent little baby relying on her. It wasn’t just her own interest she had to look out for, but this child’s as well. The baby didn’t deserve this, but she had no idea how to go about escaping. The mansion was crawling with security, and she’d never be able to grab the triggers before escaping, which would make the escape useless in the first place. 

Sighing deeply, Cerliah stood, moving the now empty tray back to the table, before tucking the child back into bed. As she went through her routine before bed, Cerliah resolved to continue thinking about a way to escape, at least when she was alone. It wouldn't be a good idea to think about being disobedient, at least in front of the mistress.


	2. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Child has been kidnapped, and sold into a slave trade on Lyerra. Found by Cerliah, a slave herself, she takes care of him until an attack by bounty hunters searching for the Child provides an opportunity for escape. Fleeing to Markon-Vel, a mostly agricultural world, Cerliah and the Child try to build a life for themselves, staying under the radar, until the Mandalorian comes for his charge.

As it turned out, Cerliah didn’t have a lot of time to think about an escape plan. She’d lain down to go to sleep when the sound of a blaster shot coming from her mistress’s room had her shooting up in bed. Eyes wide, she leapt out of the bed and scooped the child up from the cradle, holding it tightly to her chest. Then, a second blaster shot rang out, and she fought back the urge to scream. She moved over to her small wardrobe, opening the door quietly, and placing the child inside, amongst her few meager gowns. 

“I need you to be quiet, little one,” she whispered, rubbing one of its ears as comfortingly as she was able. “I’ll be right back, stay here.”

Closing the door to the wardrobe, Cerliah turned and made her way to the door that connected her bedroom to the closet of her mistress. As quietly as she could, she leaned against the door, placing her ear to the thin crack, attempting to discern if there were any voices. After waiting for what felt like forever, but could have only been a couple of minutes, she slowly slid the door open. 

Creeping into the closet, she moved through the darkness until she reached the master bedroom, and as she gazed into the room, she had to cover her mouth so as not to scream. 

Laying haphazardly in bed was the Grand-Moff and his wife, clearly dead. The Grand-Moff had a blaster burn directly over his heart, and his wife, her mistress, had a shot directly to the face. It was clear that whoever had shot the Grand-Moff had been startled when her mistress woke up, and reacted without thinking.

Blinking back tears, Cerliah crept towards the door that led to the hallway, pausing in terror when she heard voices. She darted to the corner of the room that was still bathed in darkness, and tried to listen over the pounding of her heart. 

“Where the fuck is the bounty? You said it was here!” One of the voices whispered harshly, the tone promising danger. Cerliah’s eyes widened. Bounty hunters. If they were making an effort to be quiet, that meant that they were trying to keep their presence there a secret. Maybe the rest of the household hadn’t suffered the same fate as their masters. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? All I know is N’Jando said he saw the uppity bitch buy him at the market today, and bring him back here! But no, you had to kill her, so now we're screwed!” 

The other voice was just as quiet, just as harsh, and just as deadly as the previous. Cerliah had to hold in a gasp when their words registered in her terror-addled brain. Their bounty was the child! The one her mistress had purchased today! 

There was no time to waste. Cerliah had to get herself and the baby off this planet before the bounty hunters found them. At least it sounded like they didn’t know where the baby was, so they were safe for the moment. Cerliah waited until the voices had faded before she began to move. Quickly making her way over to the far wall, she moved the expensive painting hanging there. Underneath was a hidden safe.

Creeping towards the bed, she looked down at the blank face of the Grand-Moff, steeling herself, before she reached down and gathered him in her arms. Half carrying, half dragging the large man, Cerliah struggled over to the safe. After carefully lowering him to the floor, she grabbed his left hand, raising it up and placing it on the scanner carefully. After a few tense seconds, there was a beep, and the door swung open. 

Inside the safe, there were two important things. The first was every single one of the slave triggers, meticulously labeled with the corresponding names. The other thing inside the safe was money. The Grand-Moff was a paranoid man, and didn’t want to rely on storing all of his money in one place, so he kept a secret stash of both Imperial credits and Wupiupi on hand, in case of emergencies. She was pretty sure this counted as an emergency.

Grabbing her mistress’s purse off the vanity, Cerliah scooped the pile of credit chips and wupiupi coins into the purse, grabbed all of the slave triggers, and dumped them in too. She snuck back to her room, dumping the purse on the bed as she moved to her wardrobe. The baby sat calmly on the floor, and looked up at her when she opened the doors.

Picking the baby up, she grabbed her satchel out of the wardrobe, along with her few items of clothing. Moving to the bed, she set the baby down as she dressed, pulling an ankle-length tunic over her chemise, and tying a belt around her waist. After lacing up her boots and pulling on her hooded cloak, she quickly packed her other clothes. Taking the purse and tying it to her waist, she swung the satchel over her shoulder, and picked up the child. 

She made her way to the hidden door, and she quickly descended the staircase. She cautiously opened the door to the kitchen, and saw the Matron sitting quietly by the stove. She slipped into the room, shutting the door behind her. The Matron turned, but before she could say anything, Cerliah began to speak.

“The master and mistress are dead,” the Matron’s hand flew to cover her mouth. “Two bounty hunters came looking for the child, and killed them. There may even be others.” Cerliah swallowed, terror filling her once more as she said the words aloud. “I need to get the baby off-world, I’m taking one of the ships in the hangar.”

The Matron looked at her oddly. “What are you still doing here then, you stupid girl?” She hissed, glancing at the shadows as though they were hiding an assassin. Cerliah opened the purse, and pulled out the slave triggers. Quickly finding the ones designated for her and the baby, she held the others out to the Matron.

Stunned, the Matron gingerly took the triggers, fingers caressing the one that bore her name. “I managed to find all the triggers, distribute them quietly, and tell everyone to leave as soon as they are able.” Cerliah hugged the Matron tightly, stepping back and wiping her eyes. “Be careful, please.”

“You as well, dear child.” The Matron murmured, watching as Cerliah swiftly exited through the door that would eventually lead her to the hangar. “You as well.”

Cerliah managed to make her way to the hangar without running into any trouble. As she walked into the hangar, she took stock of the vehicles. The least conspicuous there was a refurbished Nubian N-1 Class Starfighter. The yellow paint had been stripped, leaving the ship a plain silver color. 

“Well, certainly better than a TIE fighter, wouldn’t you say?” Cerliah muttered to the child, crossing the hangar and approaching the ship. She climbed the ladder, balancing the baby on her hip as she did so. Once she’d settled inside, she placed her satchel at her feet, and strapped herself in. Holding the child on her lap, she started up the fighter, glancing over the controls. 

While she hadn’t ever flown a ship, she’d read about them. A lot. Thankfully, her mistress hadn’t wanted an illiterate slave, and made sure she could read. So, to pass time, she’d read nearly every datapad in the large library, including multiple instructional datapads on how to fly different types of starfighters. The controls for the Nubian N-1 Class weren’t difficult, and they were soon ready for takeoff. 

Cerliah took a deep breath. They’d made it this far, there was no use getting cold feet at this point. The bounty hunter’s hadn’t found them yet, and Cerliah wanted to keep it that way. She closed the hatch, and initiated take-off. As smoothly as she could, Cerliah flew the starfighter out of the hangar, and into the still-dark sky. As they left the planet’s atmosphere, Cerliah looked down at the baby sitting calmly in her lap. 

“The whole galaxy is open to us, little one,” she said softly. “Where do you want to go?” The baby clapped excitedly, and Cerliah wondered not for the first time if it knew what she was saying. The child pointed in a direction. “That-a-way, huh? Alright, what’s that way?” Cerliah looked at her maps. There were a couple of promising planets in that direction, but the best seemed to be Markon-Vel. A small world, with no large exports to speak of, it was relatively anonymous in terms of planets. No spaceport, no big cities, mostly little farming villages and some old ruins to forgotten gods, and most importantly, no slavery.

“How about it, huh? Markon-Vel sounds like a good place to start over?” The baby let out a noise of excitement, and Cerliah couldn’t help but smile. Setting their course in the nav comp, she sat back and watched as the stars flew by as they left Lyerra behind. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out their two slave triggers. Fingering the small metal devices that held so much power over her and the little one, she felt a small twinge of regret that she didn’t know how to disarm them. That information had certainly never been placed in the Grand-Moff’s library. 

She pulled the chain of her necklace out, toying with the small metal design on the end that always brought her comfort, though she knew not it's origins. Removing the necklace, she threaded the two small metal triggers onto the chain, tucking it back under her neckline. She would rather die than give anyone those two triggers, so she would keep them close to her heart until the day she died, or the day she found someone trustworthy to disable them, whichever came first. 

The flight to Markon-Vel would take roughly six hours in the N-1 class, so she settled down to wait out the flight in the somewhat uncomfortable seat. Despite her discomfort, she knew she was heading to her freedom, and that more than made up for it. 

Over the course of the six-hour flight, the baby explored what little it could reach of the cockpit, trying to press buttons and move levers when Cerliah wasn’t watching. She tried to keep it occupied, playing little games in the confined space, but nevertheless, she was relieved when Markon-Vel came into view. Securing the baby on her lap, she began initiating entry and landing procedures, scanning the surface for the best place to land. 

Finding a small village that was roughly forty klicks from the capitol, she set the nav comp, and began the descent into the atmosphere. The kid looked thrilled to be heading towards solid ground once again, and Cerliah couldn’t blame him. She maneuvered the craft, touching down on the outskirts of the town. As she shut down the controls, she noticed a few brave townspeople making their way over to her craft. 

“Alright little one, you ready for this?” 

Cerliah helped him climb into her knapsack, and secured it safely on her back. She exited the craft, climbing down the ladder, jumping off and hitting the ground with a soft grunt. She turned towards the townspeople, smiling softly at their looks of awe as they gazed at the starfighter. 

One woman stepped forward, worry lining the skin around her eyes. She was older than the others, and looked to be in a position of power in the village, based on her slightly more elaborate dress. Cerliah dropped into a small curtsey, showing her respect, and hopefully showing that she meant no harm. 

The woman watched as Cerliah straightened, and when she spoke, her words were wary, but not outrightly hostile. 

“What brings an outsider to our little village?” 

Cerliah bowed her face in respect, and spoke quickly, but softly. “I am merely looking for a place to settle. My home was attacked, and it was no longer safe for me to stay there. I can pay for my lodging, and I am willing to work.” 

The woman’s brow raised. She was not surprised that this young woman was looking for somewhere to live quietly, but she was not yet convinced. “How do I know that you will not bring destruction upon our village in the same manner as your home?” 

A young woman stepped forward at that, laying her hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “Grandmother, that was uncalled for-” Cerliah cut her off with a raise of her hand. 

“‘Tis a valid question, I should think.” She offered softly. “Those seeking to destroy my home were not looking for me specifically, but those with whom I lived.” Cerliah winced internally at the slight falsehood, but continued on. “They found their targets. I escaped unnoticed.” 

The older woman sighed. “We don’t accept credits here, none of our traders use them. Unless you have wupiupi, then our conversation can go no further.” Cerliah opened her purse, and pulled out a handful of wupiupi, thankful that her master hadn’t only stockpiled credit chips. 

The woman’s eyes widened as she saw the amount of coins in Cerliah’s hand. That many wupiupi could feed the village for the next few months at least. Cerliah took the woman’s expression to mean it was not enough, and she frowned, concerned. “I can pay more-”

This time, the younger woman spoke. “For that amount, you could buy the whole village,” she exclaimed softly. “What did you desire for lodging?”

Cerliah sighed in relief. “Somewhere far on the outskirts, if possible. I’ve had enough excitement in my life to last for a while.” 

After paying the still-shaken older woman, who Cerliah learned was known as Grandmother, she followed Katriel, the young woman who had spoken up in her favor, towards her new house. 

The house was a small, one story building only about a step up from a shack. But it was clean, well-built, far from the main town, and most of all, her own. She’d bought it with her own coin, and it was her’s. For the first time in a long time, she owned something that hadn’t been given to her by a slaver. 

Katriel showed her where there was a plot of land for a garden, and in the far corner of the property was a small pond, with brightly colored fish swimming around. Thanking Katriel, Cerliah moved inside the small hut, taking in the modest kitchen and dining area. Beyond a doorway was a small fresher, and on the side of the room, a hallway led to a small bedroom, with a bed taking up most of the space, with room for a small chest at the end, presumably for clothes.    
  
Katriel had told her that the previous owners had moved off world, and the villagers had yet to sell the property. Cerliah smiled a wide, beaming smile. It may have been small, but it felt so very cozy and warm, the way she imagined home must feel like. 

“What do you think, huh? Bet we can build you a cradle to fit next to the bed,” Cerliah murmured as she slowly took off her knapsack, opening the flap to reveal the child looking up at her, big round eyes even wider than usual with excitement. She pulled them out of the bag, setting them down gently on the soft sheets, watching in amusement as the small child clambered their way down the bed, and toddling off to explore the house more thoroughly. 

Here, the baby wouldn’t have to worry about what could have happened had they stayed on Lyerra. While Cerliah would always mourn life lost, she found herself feeling surprisingly little sympathy for the pair who had owned her for so many years. Looking out at the trees swaying in the wind, she hoped that finally, they might be allowed some peace and quiet.

* * *

That peace and quiet lasted about three standard weeks. 

Cerliah was outside, kneeling in the garden while the baby, Little One- she’d taken to calling him that, as she’d learned he was a him, but still knew not his name- was hopping near the small pond, chasing the frogs that lived near it. He’d damn near given her a heart attack when one day, she’d come out to find him stuffing a full-sized toad in his mouth. Since then, she’d learned that he favored frogs and toads for sustenance, although in a pinch, he would eat the small fish in the pond. She still tried to get him to eat more  _ normal _ food, to varying degrees of success. 

The sprouts she’d bought in the village market were finally starting to grow, and she found joy in knowing that her hand were bringing life to the small plants, that she was able to work for her keep, but if she didn’t finish the tasks she’d laid out for herself, she wouldn’t be punished. 

She was working on pruning a small stalk of Balka greens when a bright light glinted off something in the distance, walking towards her hut. She looked up, and immediately felt her heart simultaneously leap into her throat and plummet into her stomach. There, walking towards her, a tower of shimmering beskar, was a Mandalorian. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm sorry, Mando isn't in this chapter like at all, AND I left it on a cliffhanger. But I PROMISE he will be in the second story, and from there on out. I'm planning for each story to have somewhere between 2 and 5 chapters, but I have no idea how many stories I'm going to end up writing. I will hopefully have the first chapter of the second story, Found, up sometime next week, but no promises. As always, my work is un-beta'd, so all my mistakes are mine and mine alone. I really hope you guys like this story, as I'm trying to set the building blocks for the rest of the storyline! 
> 
> (Also, as a side note, keep an eye out later this week for a completely unrelated one-shot involving Din and a different OC, with a much more mature rating! It'll be my first attempt at writing any kind of fic with sexy-times, despite my extensive experience with reading them, so I hope you all enjoy that one as well!)
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated, and feel free to follow me on tumblr @mindless--ramblings! I'll be posting my stories there too, and dropping release dates as well!

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! It’s been a long time coming, and I swear, I kept trying to write so I can update my Bondi Rescue story on Wattpad, but this little idea just wouldn’t leave me alone. So, here I go, diving into the Mandalorian fandom! Funnily enough, this chapter doesn’t even have Mando in it, whoops. I literally just finished this chapter today (I’m also unbeta’d so whoohoo!), so we will see how long it takes me to get up the next chapter. I hope you enjoy!


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